Dodging the Bullet
by mccoylover
Summary: Trying to break my writers block w/a new Jack & Brooke story, set somewhere in the last few seasons.
1. Chapter 1

Dodging the Bullet

"They didn't take my license," the younger man explained as the two men waited for the elevator. His tone and facial expression reflected his relief at the outcome of his earlier meeting with members of the New York Bar Associations Discipline Committee. "It looks like I dodged the bullet."

The older man abruptly turned his attention from the double doors just as they began to open. The look of defiance that accompanied his penetrating gaze instantly jarred the younger man confidence.

"You think so?"

Without further explanation, New York County District Attorney Jack McCoy entered the empty car and swiftly pressed the button marked 'basement'. Inwardly, McCoy's enthusiasm at hearing the committee's decision was every bit as strong as that of the young man he'd just left looking as if he'd just received an unexpected punch in the gut. Equally strong was McCoy's annoyance upon learning that the attorney he'd chosen to act as his right hand man had made such an ill thought out decision; a decision that could have not only ended Michael Cutter's own career, but that had the potential to give the DA's office a black eye, mere months after McCoy had won election to the office.

_How many years has he been practicing? Years that he could have easily taken care of those missing units and avoided the public humiliation… of himself, as well as this office…of having his credentials called into question in the middle of a murder trial…_

McCoy impatiently shook his head in an effort to clear his thoughts while he dashed from the warmth of the idling elevator car into the freezer-like temperatures of the basement garage.

McCoy nodded his thanks to the driver who stood beside the open passenger's side back door and slipped into the waiting town car.

"We need to make a stop at Manhattan General before we get on the Express Way," McCoy informed the driver before closing the door and reminding himself that bigger things than the two units Mike Cutter had failed to complete for his bachelor's degree needed his attention.

With a heavy sigh, McCoy pulled his cell phone from the pocket of the dark wool coat, after his eyes had fallen on the on the dashboard and the bright green numbers that told him he was already late for the celebration marking his first year of marriage to the current Mrs. John James McCoy.

The hospital was just coming into view when the phone stopped ringing and the greeting for Brooke McCoy's voicemail began to play. McCoy's lips turned upward. The fact his wife hadn't answered her phone told McCoy that odds were better than fifty-fifty he wasn't the only one running behind schedule that night.

"No, not here," McCoy quickly remarked as the driver's and moved to flip on the turn signal. "Keep going. The next driveway will take us to the emergency entrance."

"I think my pride hurts more than my butt does. It still burns me that a parasite like Dale Stuckey found a way to outsmart me in my own home."The relief McCoy felt at hearing the barely audible response rivaled, if not outweighed, that of the subordinate he'd abandoned at the elevator a quarter of an hour before. "Jack, relax and take a breath before our daughter ends up with two parents in the hospital."

McCoy smiled at his ex-wife's sardonic response before sliding a rollaway stool from the foot of the bed to its head. As he sat down, he reached for her hand and made enough of a show of complying with her request that her deceptively stern expression couldn't help but soften.

"I'm going to be fine," Judge Elizabeth Donnelly continued as she attempted to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Stabler must have broken every traffic law on the books. But he got me here before the affects of that drug became fatal. The doctors are talking about moving me upstairs for the night…just to be safe… if there aren't any surprises during the night, Don should be able to take me home tomorrow."

The moment he'd entered the room filled with monitors and IV's his heart seemed to stop. In the almost thirty years he'd known Elizabeth Donnelly, McCoy had never seen her look so fragile. Not even after giving birth to their daughter…not even after the miscarriage that had cost them their second child… had she appeared to be as close to death's door as she did now.

"I checked with Cabot before I left the office," he told her as he silently noted the trembling of her icy hand. "Walter Bradley has the lunatic that did this to you locked up in Bellevue. Emil Skoda will be doing the 730 exam first thing in the morning."

"Alex called Don as soon as the arraignment was over," she as she gingerly moved her head up and down. "You just missed him. He left a few minutes ago so he could catch Elliot to be sure there aren't any loose ends that that douche bag's lawyer could use to get the case thrown out at trial."

As uncomfortable as he was with his ex-wife's habit using verbiage that had the potential to be caustic enough to cause a sailor to blush, the spark of defiance that fluttered in Donnelly's eyes was enough to silence any protest McCoy might have been considering.

"Not likely to happen. Based on the information Alex gave me, the case against Dale Stuckey is rock solid. Even if it wasn't, there isn't a decent defense attorney in this town that's willing to touch the case. After going after three public servants, Stuckey is lucky the PD's office was willing to send anyone down to represent him at arraignment."

Donnelly nodded at the words that McCoy had hoped would reassure her. His head told him the logic of his statement was solid. But, given his knowledge of the cowboy antics that periodically found their way into the methods used by certain members of Manhattan's Special Victims Unit, McCoy's gut told him Captain Donald Cragen was being more than prudent by personally verifying the actions of his squad members would not result in calling the facts of the case against Stuckey into question.

"Looks like I'm going to miss the social event of the season," Donnelly said with a weak smile as she stole a glance at the watch on his wrist. "Congratulations, Jack. If the first year is really the hardest, from now on, it should be downhill all the way for you and Brooke. That is unless you don't get a move on and end up missing your own anniversary party."


	2. Chapter 2

The line of cars ran nearly a mile. McCoy could feel his anxiety rise, as the driver carefully moved the town car up the narrow road leading to Assistant District Attorney Jake Cohen's Fire Island home.

By the time McCoy had allowed himself to be shooed from his ex-wife's bedside, the rush hour traffic on the Long Island Expressway was at its peak. Luckily, he had planned ahead to cut down on practical matters that could have delayed him further in Manhattan. McCoy had thought to pick up his wife's anniversary gift during his lunch break, as well as to change for the party before leaving his office. But he hadn't counted on a four car crash just before the Fire Island turn off to extend his journey by another forty-five minutes.

"Mario, this is close enough," McCoy informed the driver before opening his door. "If you can manage to turn the car around, you're done for the night. Mrs. McCoy and I will be taking be staying on the island tonight."

After the driver acknowledged his instructions, McCoy began to sprint the last quarter mile to Cohen's home. As he rounded the corner, the brightly lit condo came into view, as did the slender figure moving at about the same speed towards McCoy.

"Where have you been," the figure swiftly approaching figure demanded. Even in the dim glow of the sporadically placed streetlights McCoy could see flashes of the shimmering cocktail dress as the unbuttoned crepe coat swung back and forth in rhythm of her steps. As she abruptly halted in front of him, McCoy was stricken not only by the natural beauty of her lightly made up features, but by the elegance with which she was able to carry herself wearing heels high enough to put her nose to nose with him before stopping on the sandy walkway in front of him. "The party started almost ninety minutes ago. I was ready to drive into Manhattan myself, but Don called from the hospital and said-"

"Your mother told me," McCoy interjected as he reached out to hug his only child. "I spoke to her doctor before I left and she's going to be fine. They want to keep her overnight just to be safe," he continued as he stroked the top of the long dark hair that had been expertly pulled back into a French roll for the evening.

"You're sure? The news said some lunatic had drugged her with a fatal dose of-"

"I'm sure. I talked to her myself. She wants to see you in the morning, after the affects of the drug are completely out of her system. She told me to tell you it would be pointless for you to drive out just to watch her sleep," he continued before stepping back to meet the questioning gaze that for a moment made her almost a mirror image of her mother. "She wants to see the baby. You know how she'd feel about you driving, especially with your son in the car, while you're worried about her . Now that doesn't mean I wouldn't understand if you're not in the mood for a party. If you would rather have Charlie take you and the baby home-"

"No, of course I want to stay," his daughter replied as she wrapped an arm around his waist and fell into step with him. "Now that I'm out of the dark about Mom's condition, of course I want to help you celebrate your anniversary, Dad."

"The dark? I left Brooke messages both before and after I saw your mother," McCoy remarked with obvious confusion. "I asked her to fill you in-"

"And I'm sure she plans to, when she gets here."

"_When_ she gets here," McCoy incredulously repeated; shooting a glance at his wristwatch as he reached for the cell phone resting in the opposite pocket of his coat.

"Dad, Brooke wouldn't miss her own anniversary party if something serious hadn't come up. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation-"

McCoy impatiently waved off his daughter attempt to console him while his mind raced. As much as he wanted to believe his daughter's words, after nearly thirty years in the DA's office, McCoy couldn't help but leap to conclusions that were anything but reasonable to explain his wife's absence.

"Jake hasn't heard from her? What's he telling the guests," McCoy demanded as retrieved the first of the half dozen voicemails he had assumed were waiting to chastise him for his own tardiness.

"Basically to eat, drink, and be merry while they wait for your grand entrance."

"I said "march" young lady!"

McCoy flipped his phone closed and uttered an audible sigh of relief at the sound of Brooke's impatient demand. Coming up the road he saw his wife rapidly striding towards him while grasping her teenaged niece firmly by the forearm.

"Come on Aunt Brooke, you're hurting me. I said I was sorry I made you late for your party. I don't know what else you want me to say!"

"If you think this hurts, just wait until they do a cavity search the next time you pull a stunt like the one you pulled today," Brooke thundered; the golden colored chiffon of her gown elegantly twirling against her calves as she abruptly halted and turned towards the red-haired young woman at her side. "And if you think I'm angry because of some stupid party, then you obviously haven't been paying attention the last two hours," the barked before hearing what she at once recognized as her husband's amused chuckle.

McCoy and his daughter exchanged knowing glances as the pair joined them.

"Stupid is probably mild compared to what our guests must be thinking about a party that appears to have no show honorees," McCoy gently remarked in response to the bright blush in his wife's cheeks, before turning his attention to the teenager clad in blue jeans and school sweatshirt. "Becky made her share of bad choices when she was your age. It took her some time, but she learned from those choices; you will too, Lindsay. Maybe you'd like to swap war stories with her while Brooke brings me up to speed?"

McCoy nodded at the look of gratitude the disheveled teen shot him before anxiously turning her gaze back to her Aunt.

"Go," Brooke sighed as she tossed the backpack she'd been holding into Lindsay's waiting hands. "As long as Becky doesn't mind having _two _infants to contend with-"

"Not a problem, Brooke. While I caution her on the pitfalls of teenage rebellion, Lindsay can make herself useful by taking my shift of diaper duty," Becky assured her as she playfully socked Lindsay's forearm. "But don't be too long. Remember you're supposed to be having fun. Besides your guests are getting restless."

"Our guests," Brooke repeated while McCoy slipped an arm around her waist. "Jake must be ready to kill me. And you. Jack, I'm so sorry-"

"Neither one of us was exactly punctual tonight. Given the reason you're late, I'd say your brother 's reaction is going to be a bigger worry to you than Jake's," McCoy remarked as they moved towards the house. "Since I don't see Andy anywhere in sight, I assume he's as much in the dark as to what his daughter's been up to as I am."

The look of foreboding that swept his wife's face told McCoy his assumption had been dead on.

As they walked he listened intently as his wife took him through the series of events that lead to an unexpected phone call from a desk sergeant she'd worked with during her time in the juvenile division and unanticipated trip to juvenile court where she'd found her niece awaiting arraignment on a shoplifting charge with two other cohorts.

"… the ADA and the shop owner were willing to settle for probation if the kids made restitution and agreed to one hundred and fifty hours of community service hours to be worked in the shop," Brooke concluded as they lingered under the light on Jake Cohen porch. "Which, will seem like a walk in the park compared to what Andy's going to hit her with, once he hears about her stuffing a five hundred dollar designer blouse in her backpack on a dare."

"Be grateful she's dealing with the clothing police and not the narcotics squad," McCoy sagely reminded her. "Not to say I'm condoning Lindsay's actions, but we've both seen what kids are into these days."

"We have, but Andy hasn't. When we finished in court I called his station. His captain told me Andy'd left for our party about ten minutes earlier. I figured it would be safer if he heard his kid got arrested when we were face to face, instead of while he was fighting the commuter traffic on the expressway," Brooke remarked as she straightened he husband's tie. "I heard about Liz on the radio coming in. I assume you're late because you stopped to check on her?"

"She's groggy, but stable. I spoke to Liz's doctor and he seems to think she'll be up to going home in the morning. She's more incensed about that renegade CSU tech gaining access to her house than anything else."

"We both know that's just your ex-wife's way of trying to play down the situation," Brooke thoughtfully interjected. "Either that or the reality of it hasn't sunk in yet. Liz is probably still in shock."

McCoy couldn't help but agree. Though Liz Donnelly relished her reputation as an unflappable, nearly unstoppable force in the criminal justice system, McCoy was one of the few individuals on the planet that had seen the former prosecutor with her guard down.

"Well, she's not in as much shock as_ I'm _in right now," Jake Cohen brusquely remarked after aburptly opening the front door. "I was about to call the shore patrol to have them drag the Sound for you two," he continued as he waggled an index finger in the face of his best friend before turning to McCoy with sudden concern. "Becky tells me you've seen Judge Donnelly and she's on the road to recovery?"

"If she has a good night, she'll be released in the morning."

"Well then," Cohen returned to his previously scolding manner. "That's even more reason to get in here and get this party started!"


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning Jack McCoy reflectively gazed in the bathroom mirror. Though he'd spent the previous evening drinking, dancing, and doing other things expected of a husband celebrating the night he was wed, McCoy was paying for those actions with dull aches that plagued him from head to toe. As he popped open the thin metal door of the medicine cabinet and reached for the asprin bottle, he heard the door knob turn.

"Save one for me."

McCoy glanced back at the mirror and nodded at the figure that stood behind him.

"I'll get the drugs, if you make the coffee."

"Deal."

McCoy's lips formed a hint of a smile as he watched Brooke reach for one of the two robes hanging from the back of the bathroom door before retreating down the short hallway. His eyes stayed on her backside until it was completely hidden from view by the purple satin of the robe. Though he was vaguely aware of the subtle signs of age that had begun to appear on his wife's body, in his mind,the random strands of silver and occasion crease in her skin, only served to add depth to Brooke's natural beauty.

When his eyes returned to his own body he gave a weary sigh and reached for the remaining robe.

"Don't forget the sugar," he reminded her a moment later as he approached the galley kitchen of the beach house.

"Don't shout," Brooke hastily murmured while she pressed a hand against her forehead, before reaching for the plain white bowl at the opposite end of the counter.

Wordlessly, McCoy bypassed the condiment and moved towards his wife. Soon after his fingers began to gingerly knead the area above her ears, he felt Brooke's body yield to his touch. As the weight of her torso fell against his chest, McCoy nodded in silent understanding.

After the night they'd had, it was no surprise to McCoy to find is wife in need of a little tender loving care.

Even if they hadn't drank and danced until the wee hours of the morning…as much to appease their well meaning guests as out of their own desire to find an outlet for the stresses of the work week…the emotional time bombs that were detonated that night would have been more than enough to cause both of them to consider abandoning civilization and never leaving the solitude of McCoy's tiny beach-house on the Fire Island coast.

First had been a barrage of questions about Donnelly and the specifics of her attack. Then, an endless array of toasts …which good manners dictated that the couple raise a glass to…as well as numerous requests to the band for romantic standards…which good manners also dictated the couple dance to…before the figurative 'excrement' hit the fan between father and daughter.

"_Dad, it's no big deal. Lots of kids have a record. Besides, Aunt Brooke took care of everything."_

_McCoy inwardly groaned upon hearing the last statement made by his niece-by-marriage. As a husband, his instincts governed him to slip a protective arm around his wife's shoulders. As a father, he steeled himself for the misdirected wrath he had no doubt would follow._

_They had been nearly halfway though the unexpected stack of gifts. Given that their marriage was not a first for either of them, the couple had opted to include a request had been highlighted on the invitations to the party which discouraged guests from bringing any kind of present. Brooke's gaze moved from the large box she was about the hand to McCoy to the figures that loomed over Jake Cohen's living room on the staircase landing across from where she stood. _

_The moment Cohen had ushered them through his front door, Brooke began scanning the crowd for her brother. Because he had been coming from work, he had expected Lindsay to drive herself to the party, so Brooke doubted he had chalked the teen's tardiness up to anything but traffic. __When she had found him, he brushed her gravely stated announcement that they 'needed to talk' aside by handing her a glass of champagne and promptly introducing his date to her._

_His first date that Brooke was aware of since the death of his wife._

"_I don't care what Aunt Brooke did," Andrew Malinowski thundered as he followed on the heels of the fleeing youth. "I'm your father and I won't have you running around with that thug boyfriend of yours that can talk you into anything that suits him!"_

_Eyes around the crowded room met. Malinowski shot Brooke a dagger glare as Becky looked on from the top of the stairs; baby in arm and eyes mirroring her regret for not being able to head off the scene in progress. McCoy bit his lip as he returned his daughters gaze with reassurance that was false, before catching Cohen's eye and motioning for him to intercede._

"_I'll be eighteen in less than a year; until then, all I have to do is set a fire or wait until you get hot pants and head over to Miss Prissy-Asses place for-"_

"_Lindsay that's enough," Brooke demanded as she abandoned both McCoy and the gift. The room fell instantly silent, save for McCoy's nearly inaudible groan, as he watched his wife move from his side to the foot of the stairs. "If you want to live to see eighteen, you'll show your father the respect he's entitled to and -"_

"_Maybe if you hadn't interfered and just let me handle this, Lindsay wouldn't have to be lectured on respect," Malinowski hissed as Lindsay swept past them and out the door._

"_In case you haven't noticed, I have other things to do besides butt into your life," Brooke shot back with the air of one-upmanship that was common between brother and sister. Yet, the stricken look that had flashed across the large blue eyes that had become instantly shiny, told McCoy his wife had been wounded more deeply than if Malinowski had lashed out with his fist, instead of his tongue. "But when I get a call that tells me your daughter is sitting in lock up, for some stupid reason, I tend to rearrange my priorities!"_

"_Listen Brooke, maybe__ if Lindsay wasn't used to you running interference for her, she'd have called her old man and not sat around waiting for her aunt the DA to come running to t rescue her," Malinowski continued before waving to the woman who was approaching the scene with two coats in hand. _

"_For the record Andrew this is an anniversary party not Madison Square Garden," McCoy interjected as Malinowski's date moved past him. "Beating up on Brooke is not only out of line, it's unproductive. Your real problem right now is your daughter, not your sister."_

"_More parenting gems," Malinowski hotly retorted while he slipped one of the heavy coats over his dates slender shoulders. "This time from a guy who didn't talk to his daughter for, __how many years was it again, Jack?"_

"_For God sake Andy-, "Cohen began, only to be cut off by the unexpectedly rational sounding voice of Brooke's former husband._

"_Doesn't take the Father of the Year to know the longer you spout off to Jack and Brooke, the more distance Lindsay's puttin' ' tween herself and home. Danielle and I were about to take off anyway," Sam Prescott smoothly continued while his wife whispered their regrets to McCoy. "How 'bout the four of us say our good-nights and we all fan out to find Lindsay. Once that's done, how you handle things is between you and your daughter."_

"I'm beginning envy you," Brooke murmured as she turned to face McCoy before gently planting a kiss on his lips. "After last night, I can see the advantages to living hundreds of miles away from your siblings."

"I'll remember that the next time you try to cajole me into making a trip to Chicago," McCoy countered with feigned gruffness before kissing the top of her head and slipping a pair of white tablets into the palm of her hand. "This isn't the first time you and your brother have been at odds and it won't be the last," he continued while pulling two mugs from the drain board. "You just need to give Andy some room. Parenting a teenager daughter is a world away from parenting the cute, cuddly…and most importantly compliant... bundle Lindsay was just a few short years ago."

"I don't cajole; I encourage," Brooke smugly shot back while she watched him fill each of the mugs. "But you have a point about Andy. He has a full plate right now; not only handling Lindsay but dealing with his first serious step back into the dating pool since Dana died. I know the last thing he needed was Lindsay publicly springing her visit to the courthouse on him. He had to lash out at somebody and I was an easy target. I can forgive that. The truth is I just didn't want to get sucked into any drama… family or otherwise… last night. I just wanted to selfishly enjoy dancing the night away with the man I married a year ago tomorrow," she continued before slipping her hand in his to lead him out of the kitchen and towards the living room sofa.

"And you did a hell of a job avoiding it," McCoy assured her as he sat down and watched as she retrieved a sealed white envelope the pocket of the coat that lay at the opposite end of the sofa. "Not only did you let Sam and Danielle usher your brother and his date out without any kind of protest, I didn't hear you utter a single word of shop talk with Jake…or anyone else from your office for that matter…the entire night," McCoy continued with a playful snicker while he reached for the envelope she offered him. "I still can't believe you haven't asked about Mike and how I intend to deal with the drama _he_ managed to have fall out of the sky last week."

"Well, when you decided to let him stay on the Sorrentino case, I assumed that meant Mike's job was safe," Brooke thoughtfully responded after taking her place beside him on the sofa and placing both of their mugs on the coffee table in front of them. "But I know _you_well enough not to think you'd just let the fact he lied on an application to the DA's office…especially when it was an application Adam Schiff ultimately saw and accepted on its face…go. But before I press you for details, open you gift. I never did get a chance to give it to you last night and I'm dying to see if it meets with your approval."

McCoy gave her a sideways glance as his lips turned upward.

"And I know _you_ well enough to know that what you're _really_ dying to see is your gift. A gift you won't lay your eyes on until our official anniversary Sunday morning," he remarked as he tapped the envelope against the edge of the wood table. "Still sure you want me to open this now?"

"Who'd of thought Jack McCoy would be such a stickler for following the rules…at least… following the rules in his personal life," Brooke mockingly countered. "Yes. I'm sure."

McCoy raised a shoulder as he contemplated the envelope in his hand. Though he was loath to admit it, his own curiosity had been aroused. Given the fact the couple had agreed to keep their gift choices within the constraints dictated by the traditional requirement for the first year anniversary, the size and shape of the envelope he held drastically limited the possibilities of what it contained.

"Too small for a book and too big to be business cards," he thoughtfully reflected before breaking the seal with an index finger. "You know this is our 'paper' anniversary, not plastic."

"If you're thinking gift card, you're going to be disappointed," Brooke gleefully informed him, her eyes holding a mischievous sparkle. "I am well aware of the traditional theme for this anniversary and...technically...I followed the rules to the letter."

"Technically," McCoy repeated the word with obvious skepticism as he pondered the possible contents of the deceptively plain looking card he had pulled from the envelope.

McCoy knew his wife to be almost childlike in her love of gifts and gift giving. He'd seen Brooke take as much care in finding just the right gift for a causal work acquaintance as she would for a lifelong friend. The suggestion to exchange paper gifts had come from him for two reasons.

First, he'd hoped to curtail her well meaning, but overly generous pattern of spending when it came to items she hoped would please him. Second, having already chosen a gift he was sure Brooke would adore, McCoy wanted to throw her off the track with a requirement that he hoped would challenge her enough to keep her from guessing what he had in mind.

When he opened the card that's face held boldly printed lettering detailed the letters of the phrase: _Love Always Finds a Way _McCoy found two tickets high lit in bright red and blue against a white background.

The items details so resembled airline tickets that, for a brief moment, McCoy seized to breathe as he stared at the name of his hometown.

"Jack, they're theater tickets, not plane tickets," Brooke hastily explained when McCoy failed to respond. "The Schubert Theater is doing a revival of _Chicago _and since you won't take me to Chicago; I thought I'd bring Chicago to you," she continued; concern outweighing humor when McCoy remained silent. "I know you're not one to glamorize mobsters, but it is a Fossie musical and Bebe Neuwirth is reprising her role the night we have tickets and I know how much you enjoy her work,but I can exchange them if –"

McCoy shook his head; more to clear his thoughts than to acknowledge his wife's offer. Though he knew his wife was anxious to become better acquainted with the family he had in the Windy City, McCoy knew Brooke's intentions were without guile. Playing games just wasn't his wife's style. Were it that she was genuinely intending to push the issue, her style would be to simply buy herself a ticket and get on a plane without him, as opposed to engineering some kind of manipulation in the hopes of having him comply with her wishes.

"After the week I've had, a night at the theater will be the perfect distraction," he firmly assured her before leaning in to thank her with a lingering kiss. "I love the gift as well as its giver."

"You're sure? I knew I was taking a risk when I-," Brooke began when he finally broke their embrace to stand, only to find herself silenced when he bent down and gently pressed a finger to her lips.

"The tickets are for tonight; the only problem I can foresee is the fact I didn't pack a clean dress shirt," he countered before starting towards the bedroom. "Better go see if I left one in the closet the last time we were out here, otherwise we'll have to head back to the city early enough for me to change before we go to the theater."

"Check my garment bag; I put one in there along with a tie and the blue suit I picked up for you at the cleaners Thursday," Brooke called after him as she reached for her mug. "Got it?"

When she'd purchased the tickets, Brooke had hoped to provide an outlet for the mounting stress her husband had been under the last few months. If the purchase opened the door to discussing the tenuous topic of taking his only sister up on her request for McCoy to journey back to Illinois to formally introduce his new wife to what was left of his immediate family, so be it. Brooke was well acquainted with her husband's reasons for avoiding the trip.

McCoy had candidly shared the fact that he and his siblings had lived for years as not only witnesses, but victims of the abuse his father had inflicted on all who lived under the roof of Officer John McCoy, well before making her his wife. After that revelation, the last thing Brooke wanted to do was push her husband into risking reliving those memories. Yet, the more his sister pressed her to talk to McCoy about returning home, the more Brooke was torn between protecting her husband from the past and seeing the logic in Eileen McCoy's belief that facing the past would finally put it to rest for the oldest sibling of the McCoy clan.

"Did you find it Jack," she called again after not receiving a response to her first query.

"I think you'd better come have a look."

"Jack , I know I put your clothes in that bag…,"Brooke began as she reached the doorway. Her tone held a tone of alarm as she struggled to fathom what seemed to be the problem at hand. When she found McCoy sitting on the side of the bed, with a small white box in hand, Brooke's concern instantly vanished.

Wearing a catlike grin, she sauntered across the room and wordlessly joined him on the bed.

"Change your mind or just looking for away to distract me," she asked as she pulled bright gold bow off of the lid; only to have McCoy pull his arm back, taking the box just outside of her reach.

"Does it really matter? I_ can_ hold onto it until –"

"No," she playfully shot back before slipping onto his lap and snatching the box from his grasp. McCoy chuckled and raised an eyebrow as he held up his hands and nodded for her to continue. The fact that there didn't appear to be a card didn't surprise her. McCoy wasn't one for what he labeled the 'canned sentiments of a Hallmark card'. What did surprise her was the feel of the container she held. "I guess I'm not the only one getting technical here; a paper box?"

"They say good things come in small packages; whether or not the package bears a Tiffany label."

Brooke could feel her eyes widen in surprise at her husband's words. Suddenly sure of what she would find, she dropped the lid on the bed beside her and brushed away the wisp of tissue paper that covered the contents of the box.

"You've had them all this time," she breathed as she carefully lifted one of pair of brightly shining earrings from the box.

"I wouldn't have put a ring on your finger if I hadn't had high hopes for us making through our first year together," he quietly remarked as he took the antique earring from her hand. "While you were having the engagement ring sized, I slipped out and had the manager at Tiffany's set them aside for me."

"And I was gullible enough to buy that line you gave me about slipping out to feed the meter," Brooke murmured; her recollection of their exchange as clear as if it had happened yesterday. "I didn't even think you'd noticed me eying them in the window."

"You don't wind up running the office if you disregard subtle clues, at least, not in our business," he remarked after attaching the second earring before holding out his hand. "They look breathtaking on you; but don't take my word for it."

After allowing him to lead her to the mirror above the dresser Brooke studied the reflection. The large emerald ovals seem to flatter both her fair complexion and the auburn stands that surrounded them. But it was the image of McCoy that kept her eyes fixed in front of her.

"What did I do to deserve you," she quietly asked; her eyes meeting his in the reflection.

There was no denying her husband's first year as DA for New York country had taken its toll. The laugh lines around McCoy's eyes and mouth had deepened. The once salt and pepper mane was now completely silver. Yet the signs of time marching ahead only served to highlight the features that Brooke found intriguing.

"That's the same question I've asked myself ever since you agreed to be my wife," McCoy whispered while his lips moved to the nape of her neck and his fingers moved to undo the knot on the belt of her robe.


	4. Chapter 4

"Mind telling me why? I mean Ben may be one of _my_ favorite people but as far as I know, he's not exactly one of yours," Brooke ruefully inquired when McCoy declined her suggestion to grab a night cap on their way home from the theater.

"I need to ask him for a favor and I prefer to do it face to face," McCoy explained after giving the cab driver the address of their loft. "I hate to start our Sunday with business; especially this Sunday. But, the only time Ben had available to see me was tomorrow morning. I'm meeting him for coffee before he and Shambala take the girls to mid-morning mass."

"A favor," Brooke thoughtfully repeated as she leaned back against well worn leather seat. "And one that gets you up at the crack of dawn on a Sunday, no less. Now I _am_ curious."

"Maybe I made this appointment Ben sound more myterious than it really is. You're forgetting that one of my underlings fails to hold the credentials he claimed to have when he was hired," her husband drily replied. "Who better to remedy that situation than one of the top law professors in the city?"

"Oh my God. You're serious, "Brooke chuckled; her face wide eyed and animated with her obvious amusement. "Attention all Manhattan ADA's; beware the wrath of your new district attorney!"

"When I got too arrogant for my own good, Adam smacked me down more than once," McCoy defensivelycountered. "Mike's needed his wings clipped for awhile now. Not only will this nip any further speculation about the validity of his credentials in the bud, putting in the clock hours to finish his B.A. will also be a lesson Mike won't soon forget."

"You know this is the 21st century; the age of technology," Brooke reminded him as she thought about her husband's Blackberry carrying right hand man. "Mike could easily take care of those units without setting foot in a classroom. Any correspondence or online university could-"

"As if Cutter would be put out spending more time in front of a computer screen," McCoy defensively shot back. "Why not just give him a free pass and pretend he never lied in the first place?"

McCoy's words instantly served to wipe the playful smirk from Brooke's lips. Eye's still wide, she silently watched as McCoy handed the driver some money before coming around to open her door.

When he had revealed the bombshell Cutter's former law professor had dropped…in open court no less… McCoy's dismay had been apparent to his wife. The fact he had chosen the brass young attorney as his second on command, as opposed to other members of the DA's office with more years on the job and in some cases well established personal relationships with the new DA, spoke volumes about the trust and respect McCoy had with regards to Michael Cutter. To find out the man had kept a secret about his professional life for so long… choosing not only to keep it but not to rectify it at over the course of a career spanning the terms of four District Attorney's… had left McCoy reeling from the shock.

Not that he'd admit that to anyone other than his wife.

The night he'd confided in her, Brooke had sympathized with the feelings of disillusionment and betrayal McCoy expressed. But it wasn't until their cab ride that she sensed he felt something more.

Something that gave rise to a feeling of trepidation that continued to grow as they entered the loft.

"So," she carefully began after McCoy placed their coats of the rack by the door. "This isn't about tying up Mike's loose ends with the degree, as much as it's about extracting pay back for being decieved by him?"

"You said it the other night, Brooke. Mike not only lied to me; he lied by omission to Adam," McCoy shot back as he impatiently loosened his tie. "That takes his actions way beyond disloyalty to me personally."

"Maybe so. But there's a big difference between being some kid fresh out of law school Adam Schiff took a chance on and being the Executive ADA running Major Felonies under a newly elected DA," Brooke impassively pointed out while following McCoy towards the kitchen.

"Did you still want that nightcap," he asked without responding to her words as he opened the cabinet across from the refrigerator.

"A little brandy would be nice, so would a little candor. Jack," she gently pressed as she set aside the brandy snifters he held. "Since we've been together, I've seem you go through just about every emotion I can think of. But, I've never seen you act on out and out spite. Sticking it to Mike Cutter just because he made a mistake…albeit a big mistake…Jack, it just seems way out of character for you."

McCoy gave a weary sigh before meeting the large blue eyes that stared inquiringly up at him. Debating the pros and cons of the punishment he was determined to meet out to Mike Cutter was the last thing he wanted to do at that moment. While he hadn't objected to the anniversary party both his daughter and new niece had insisted on, McCoy had looked on the occasion as an obligation to be met, as opposed to his preferred way of celebrating his first year with his new wife.

The celebration he'd been looking forward to was the private one he'd planned for the night after the party. Though he'd enjoyed the play Brooke had surprised him with tickets for, it was the candlelit dinner he'd planned before hand, as well as the prospect of the remainder of the night…a long anticipated night with only his wife…that McCoy truly had been looking forward to for weeks.

Yet, he knew his wife too well to think a gruff rebuke or cavalier attempt at justifying his choice would dissuade her from pursuing the topic at hand.

"I'm not motivated by spite," he began while retrieving the glasses from the counter before moving towards the bar. "This isn't about pay back, Brooke. It's about being able to trust Mike's judgment," he continued as he reached for the bottle of Hennessy. "The man wields nearly as much power as I do and I gave him that power when I made him my executive. "

"I remember the fall out when you announced Mike's promotion," Brooke admitted as she took the glass he offered her. "Fall out not only from members of your senior staff, but in the press. Which is why I'm confused. Jack, if you don't trust Mike, why didn't you just fire him when it hit the fan in court last week? I mean, lying on your application for a government job…city or otherwise..._is _grounds for immediate dismissal. Why not just cut your losses instead of opening yourself and the office up to more scrutiny by the bar as well as – "

"Because it's not just Mike I lost trust in," McCoy murmured as he leaned back against the face of the bar and took a long swallow of the amber liquid in his glass.

"I see," Brooke quietly remarked as she set her glass on the bar while reaching for the one in his hand. "Adam hired him, but you're the one that made Mike Cutter the EADA in charge of major felonies. "

"That makes Mike and his baggage my responsibility."

"So," Brooke continued as she ran her hands unhurriedly up the front of his white dress shirt. "You're buying time while you figure out if you're judgment is as bad as Mike Cutter's? Buying time while you figure out where you went wrong," she continued with a sympathetic smile, as she cradled his face in her hands . "I know you're fond of him, but Jack Mike's your subordinate, not your son."

McCoy closed his eyes and allowed his mind to momentarily focus on her caresses; caresses he sensed were meant more to sooth than to arouse him. But even the feel of Brooke's reassuring touch couldn't keep him from silently asking himself the question that had been nagging at him since word of Cutter's omission reached him.

_Why? After all the near misses since Mike moved across the hall, why didn't he have the good sense… why didn't he trust me enough…to come forward and tell me himself?_


	5. Chapter 5

The professors formerly neutral expression took on a hint of curiosity once his breakfast companion finished summarizing the events that had brought about the DA's request to meet with him.

"And you're keeping him on," Ben Stone said as he shook his head. "I saw the article the Post ran last week and figured you'd boot him once his case was over. After all, why flirt even closer to a mistrial by firing the lead prosecutor on top of everything else? But even letting your Mr. Cutter stay on as lead prosecutor was a gift after what this cowboy pulled. You know as well as I do what Adam would have done the second that verdict was in."

"He'd have personally kicked Mike Cutter's butt from the courthouse steps all the way down to the Bar Associations Ethics Committee," McCoy offered with a chuckle after taking a sip from the steamy mug with the Starbuck's name scrawled across it. "Adam came close to doing that with me on one more than one occasion."

"Adam let you push the limits because you were his rising star and don't even think about letting that admission go any further than his table," Stone wryly countered. "Obviously you think Cutter's cut from the same cloth or he wouldn't be worth the bad press or worse yet, of you having to ask me for my help. A semester in night section of Law 101 will remedy your right hand of his credit deficiency but I doubt it'll be enough to remedy him of his other liability. God knows you having _your_ BA didn't remedy you of it. If anything, it probably made it worse."

McCoy knew Ben Stone well enough not to ask; choosing instead to silently shoot the former prosecutor a sidelong glance over the rim of his mug.

During the time the two men had worked together under Adam Schiff, each had developed a less than faltering opinion of the other. Even though they had unofficially declared a truce in recent years, McCoy had no doubt the 'liability' Stone half jokingly referred to was arrogance; a trait Stone had accused McCoy of having on numerous previous occasions.

"Right now the only character flaw I'm interested in remedying Mike Cutter of is his misguided notion that deception can be overlooked if the final outcome is positive."

"Given the fact we both know it's impractical in trail work for an attorney on either side of the aisle to lay all his cards on the table before the game even begins, I'm assuming your concern extends solely to deceptions that are perpetrated without cluing the district attorney in beforehand?"

"This isn't about my ego Ben; this is maintaining the integrity of the office the voters have made me responsible for," McCoy gruffly responded before his dark eyes wavered from Stone's penetrating gaze.

McCoy absentmindedly nodded in response once Stone diplomatically assured him that he would find room for the renegade EADA in the course that started that week before reaching for the check.

"Oh come on Jack, don't leave on a sour note," Stone good naturedly remarked after McCoy pulled out his wallet. "First of all, since when did you ever give my opinion …about you or anything else… a second thought? Second of all, you seem to have forgotten something?"

"Such as?"

"Such as the pleasure you'll get Monday morning when you inform the good Mr. Cutter of the pence you're assigning him to do with me."

"I can't believe you, Connie," Mike Cutter blurted out after confiding to his assistant the reason he had been unceremoniously summoned to the DA's office the moment he returned from the courthouse.

"And I can't believe you, Mike. You've worked around here long enough to know Jack isn't going to just forget about the fact you lied on that application," the dark haired woman across the desk from him calmly countered. "Just be glad you still have a job-"

"A job that requires me to put in sixteen hour days in order to do it right. How am I supposed to do that if I'm sitting with a bunch of wannabe lawyers at NYU from seven to ten three nights a week for the next eighteen weeks," he demanded as he reached an arm towards the credenza behind him.

Rubirosa sighed as she watched Cutter stand, bat in hand, and move towards the closed door that blocked the short path across the hall to Jack McCoy's office.

"I guess that's why you have an assistant," Rubirosa shot back without any attempt to suppress her glee. "Besides it's not that bad. Unless things have changed since I was in school, seven to ten classes are only two nights a week. "

"Well that makes all the difference," Cutter shot back with uncharacteristic sarcasm as he swung the bat at the invisible ball he was focused on. "With that kind of logic, it should be a breeze to prep for the thirty plus cases I have sitting on my desk, while I review _Marberry v Madison_ and every other landmark case Ben Stone will expect a seasoned Assistant District Attorney to quote chapter and verse. I mean the man had my job! I doubt a professor of Ben Stone's caliber is going to make this a cake walk for anyone; especially when he's doing a favor for Jack! Even now, the rivalry between those two is common knowledge around here," he continued before he rested the bat at his side and turned his gaze back towards her unwavering gaze. "What?"

"If I really thought impressing Ben Stone was what was on your mind, I'd give Cyrus Lupo a call and ask him if he'd mentor you," Rubirosa candidly responded; the smirk on her face deepened as Cutter reacted to the thought of seeking help from the detective by day, law student by night who worked the majority of cases that found their way to Cutter's desk.

"And if I thought you would really take something I shared with you in confidence and make it public knowledge-"

"Mike, you know what ever you say to me, stays with me," Rubirosa knowingly assured him as she moved towards him and reached for the bat. "But you also know, it's not the workload or Professor Stone's expectations, or even the fact you're going to have to sit it out with a bunch of wet behind the ears law students. What's really bothering you is that you let Jack down and he's letting you know it in no uncertain terms."

Cutter sighed in defeat while he watched his assistant return the bat to the credenza. One of the things that make Connie Rubirosa the best assistant that had been assigned to Cutter in the decade he had been with the DA's office was her natural intuitiveness. The slender brunette learned in record time to anticipate Cutter's needs when it came to preparing a case for trail. It amazed Cutter how quickly she'd learned to read him, both professionally and on a personal level.

"I may not have been Jack's first choice for this job," Cutter somberly observed; his mind flashing back to the volatile, albeit brief tenure of his predecessor, Josh Lethem. "God knows he had more experienced ADA's …people he came up through the ranks with…to choose from. But I know he'd have never given me the opportunity if he'd had any doubt he could trust me; especially after what happened with Lethem. I still can't believe something so trivial, something that happened so long ago, could put that trust into real jeopardy."

Rubirosa nodded in silent understanding. During the two years that she had acted as McCoy's assistant, Rubirosa had seen firsthand how guarded McCoy could be and how few people the current DA seemed to have unwavering confidence in. She could still remember the sense of pride she'd felt when she realized McCoy included her in that elite group.

She could only image how disheartening it was for Cutter to have inadvertently risked his own place in that exclusive cluster.

"Listen Mike, "Rubirosa began with as much optimism as she could muster. "You know you can count on me to do whatever it takes to lighten the load around here. The best way to get back into Jack's good graces is to bite the bullet and get through that course as quietly as possible. That means sucking it up and not moping around here like a school boy who was just dressed down by the headmaster," she continued after picking up the file that had been laying open at the center of Cutter's desk. "So let's stop wasting time and try to get this motion finished so you can take it into Jack before he leaves for the night."


	6. Chapter 6

"It would mean a lot to Mike if he saw you wear that," Rubirosa remarked from just inside McCoy's doorway. "Especially now."

McCoy's eyes automatically shifted from the item he'd been thoughtfully admiring to the figure that moved towards him. The startled expression on the DA's face vanished as quickly as it had appeared while he wordlessly returned the tie clip to its home in the top drawer of his desk.

"It would mean a lot to _me _if you had Mike make these changes before you two call it quits tonight,McCoy tersely countered as he handed her the motion papers. "The scope here is broad enough for an experienced defense attorney to drive a truck through it…especially a defense attorney like Danielle Melnick. Narrow it so we're only asking for the wife's testimony to be suppressed."

"With his night class starting tomorrow, I figured this was Mike's last chance to get a full eight hours of sleep for awhile, so I told him to go home and I'd take care of any revisions you deemed necessary," Rubirosa began only to have the grey haired figure behind the desk weary motion for her to seize and desist.

"Don't want to hear it Connie. The decisions been made," McCoy shot back more sharply than he'd intended before standing and reaching for the suit jacket that hung from the back of his chair. "Besides, it's later than I thought. I need to get home," he continued after looking down at his wrist to find nearly an hour had passed since he'd told his wife he was leaving the office. Even if hadn't been a few minutes shy of midnight, McCoy would have found a way to avoid the subject he was so tired of debating. While he was used to Rubirosa and Cutter standing up for one another in times of conflict, having already debated the subject with everyone from Brooke to Ben Stone, as far as McCoy was concerned, the subject was no longer open for discussion. "So do you. The motion can keep until morning. Leave it on your desk and we can split a cab if you want."

"I'll grab my things and meet you at the elevator," Rubirosa replied before triumphantly turning on her heel and exiting the room.

McCoy reached for his satchel, belatedly realizing his gentlemanly offer had just bought his subordinate more time to plead Cutter's case. Time in which McCoy would be Rubirosa's captive audience, unless he got desperate enough to jump out of a moving vehicle.

With a sigh, he reached for the light switch, just as the phone on the desk behind him began to ring. Midnight phone calls rarely contain good news. This call was no exception. The moment he heard the desperation in the callers all too familiar voice, McCoy knew he wasn't going to like what was coming.

A quarter of an hour later, McCoy found himself taking the courthouse steps two at a time. After hastily hailing a cab, he'd startled Rubirosa by giving her an embarrassingly vague explanation for abruptly changing their plans by asking the cabdriver to pull over at the corner of Hogan Place and Centre Street. Before Rubirosa could question his actions, McCoy had stuffed a bill into the driver's hand and rattled off his companion's home address as he abandoned both the vehicle and the young ADA.

Even though he was unfamiliar with most the night staff at the courthouse it didn't matter. After years of trial work, McCoy knew the building like the back of his hand. After he flashed his ID at the officer manning the metal detector, the D.A. moved swiftly through the device and passed the small crowd of law enforcement personnel, victims, and assorted other individuals who had business with the court and made his way down the corridor that would lead him to the courtroom where arraignments for individuals accused of felony counts was in session.

As he made his way down the crowded hallway McCoy passed clusters of people waiting outside the courtroom designated for lesser offenses. The combined scents of stale clothing, cheap liquor, and human desperation filled McCoy's lungs as he carefully walked over an elderly man who lay passed out in his path. When he reached his destination at the end of the hall, McCoy found the air lighter, despite the seediness of those individuals who were there to be arraigned.

When he arrived the presiding judge was announcing the requirements for bail he was imposing on a defendant charged with felony possession on a controlled substance. McCoy answered the judge's inquiring gaze with a slight nod that he repeated for the other officers of the court that curiously turned to seek out the source that caused for uncharacteristic waver in the judge's focus.

"Good evening, Mr. McCoy," Judge Walter Bradley inquired after lowering his gavel as a sign that the case that had before him was complete."Might I inquire as to what circumstances might warrant the district attorney's presence in my courtroom this evening?"

"Your honor, permission to approach?"

"Granted," Bradley replied and impatiently gestured for McCoy to move forward."This court is in recess. Everybody stay close. We'll begin again in ten minutes," Bradley tapped the gavel once more before leaning forward and continuing in a hushed tone that held a faint note of amusement. "Don't tell me you'd rather audit my courtroom than go home to that pretty new wife of yours."

"Actually, you're the last person I expected to see doing night court," McCoy quietly shot back. "What happened Walter, the supervising judge catch you cheating on poker night?"

Bradley said with a slight snort. Since Donnelly's home with a sore butt, some of us are picking up the slack on the calendar. Ross and I are covering her night court rotation. That's why I missed your little celebration Friday night. Don't tell me you're here to collect your anniversary gift?

"I wish," McCoy murmured before turning to scan the gallery. Among the assortment of defendants waiting for the proceedings to resume, McCoy's eyes stopped on a young redhead sitting nearest the court officer assigned to guard the group.

"Thought you grew up and stopped going after the young ones long before you became a married man again," Bradley mused after noting McCoy's interest in the figure who looked as out of place in his courtroom as a nun in Times Square. "Jack, what's going on?"

"That's what I came down here to find out. Hopefully I'll have an answer ot that question, onceI;ve had a chance to talk to my niece."


	7. Chapter 7

Judge Bradley had listened with increasing interest as McCoy revealed the few pieces of information he'd been able to glean from the call he'd received from his panic stricken niece. When McCoy revealed the young woman was under the age of eighteen, both men were puzzled as to how she had found her way into Bradley's courtroom. It was a puzzle the D.A. hoped to gain the missing pieces to, when Bradley agreed have Lindsay escorted to one of the empty conference rooms on the next floor.

"And can you tell me exactly what were you thinking when you decided to lie to the arresting officer by telling him you were already eighteen," McCoy asked , his voice so flat, so devoid of emotion, that the sound invoked an involuntary shudder from figure clad in an orange jumpsuit sitting across from him.

"I didn't want to leave my friends," his niece declared with a hint of defiance in her voice that faltered the moment she looked up and into McCoy's penetrating gaze.

"Didn't want to leave them or didn't want them to know they'd gotten a minor involved in a murder," McCoy probed in a tone that made answering his query seem a pointless exercise. "Listen Lindsay, you called me, not the other way around. This isn't some adolescent prank; a girl is dead and one of your 'friends' is responsible."

"I told you on the phone, it's all a mistake, Uncle Jack," Lindsay pleaded as her eyes searched his for a sign of understanding. "It was a party, no one was supposed die-"

"But someone did," McCoy softly interjected before reaching for the hands that sat clenched on the table top. McCoy inwardly sighed at Lindsay's effort to maintain a composed facade; a facade that the panic in her voice and the icy hands that trembled in his, told him was on the verge of crumbling. "Lindsay this isn't some misdemeanor your Aunt can make go away with a few hours of community serviced a well rehearsed apology from you. You're charged with felony possession of a controlled substance and as an accessory to a homicide. If I were you, I'd forget about those 'friends' of yours and start thinking about how to stay out of prison."

"But Uncle Jack, didn't do anything! I didn't bring the drugs and I'm the one who called the paramedics after I went in the bathroom and found that girl laying there-"

"That's enough for now Lindsay. Uncle D.A. knows better than to interrogate a suspect with her lawyer being present."

"Uncle D.A. is the one the 'suspect' called for help," McCoy sputtered as he stood to meet the woman who stood in the doorway. "And for the record Danielle, if I_ were_ here in my capacity as the district attorney, we both know I'd be talking to Lindsay's attorney not to Lindsay directly."

"Well then stick around counselor," Danielle Melnick confidently remarked as she took the chair across from Lindsay. "And we'll see if we have anything to talk about after I've conferred with my client."

"Your what," McCoy incredulously inquired as his gaze shifted from a niece who looked as confused as he felt, back to his longtime professional nemesis.


	8. Chapter 8

"Andrew contacted me after he heard about Lindsay," the well known defense attorney explained as her client gasped in horror.

"You called my _dad_," Lindsay demanded of McCoy as the first sign of a tear threatened to spill from her eyes. "Uncle Jack! When I called you, you _promised_ not to-"

"I didn't call you father, but I did call your aunt-"

"You called Aunt Brooke! God, that's as good as calling my Dad-"

"Like it or not Lindsay, your father is your legal guardian," McCoy impatiently explained. "According to the law, he had to be notified-"

"You two can fight about this later, right now I need to talk to my client before they're ready for us upstairs," Melnick urgently interjected as after standing up to take McCoy by the forearm. "Come on Jack, you know I'll take good care of Lindsay," she continued softly as she led him towards the door. "Right now, I need your help with the three ring circus that's waiting outside that door."

When Melnick informed him that along with her husband and his brother in law, the press had somehow gotten wind of the fact the DA's niece had been brought to the courthouse to be arraigned on a felony count, for a fraction of a second McCoy flirted with the idea of refusing to leave the conference room. It was nearing two a.m. and the press was the last thing he wanted to deal with on top of the more than justified outrage Andrew Malinowski was sure to direct at the first available target.

When McCoy followed the court officer from the conference room and down the hall, he was relieved to be informed the press had been sent to the juvenile division to await the return of the judge handling juvenile defendants. At the end of the hall he found Melnick's husband attempting to placate his brother-in-law.

The grimy firefighter's uniform made it obvious that Andrew Malinowski had just gotten off his shift when he'd heard the news. The wounded tone of his usually gruff voice told McCoy the man was already blaming himself for his daughter's situation.

"Murder...what kind of animals did she get herself involved with…did I_ let_ her get involved with," McCoy heard Malinowski miserably demand.

"Andy the important thing right now is, not only did Lindsay have the presence of mind to call Jack, but she has the best legal counsel in the state to help get her out if this mess she's gotten yourself into."

"Yeah, she calls someone who isn't even blood, instead of her own father," Malinowski angrily shot back as he followed Prescott's gaze to find McCoy coming up behind him. "Jack, I'm sorry. Don't think I don't appreciate you coming down here, especially after that scene at the party. But damnit I'm her father and–"

"Andy you have nothing to apologize for," McCoy injected as his own daughter's experience with the law fluttered through his mind. "The teenage years are the worst. If Liz hadn't been around, I doubt I would have survived Rebecca's," McCoy added with a wryly smile before heaving a heavy sigh. "And even though Sam's right…I can't think of anyone who will give your daughter a better shot at an acquittal than Danielle… the charges are serious. You have good reason to want to protect Lindsay."

While the trio waited for Melnick to complete her interview, the men pieced together the fragments of information each had about the events leading to Lindsay's arrest. Though Lindsay had been grounded as a consequence stemming from her shoplifting escapade, when Lindsay checked in with him shortly before nine p.m., it was obvious to Malinowski that his daughter was again testing her limits.

"When my caller I.D. showed she was using her cell phone instead of our land line, I knew she was out running around somewhere," the beleaguered father admitted. "But I had another three hours to go on my shift, so all I could do at the time was demand she get herself back to the house and stay there. Of course," Malinowski continued with a self-disparaging snort. "All she did was hang up on me. When I got home the message light was flashing on the machine. Brooke said you were meeting Lindsay at the courthouse in Manhattan. That you had told her Lindsay was being charged. That Lindsay had told you something about being at a party in Manhattan and finding a dead girl in a bathroom. That's when I started to panic and Brooke suggested I call Sam and to see if Danielle would be willing to represent Lindsay instead some overworked public defender. "

Both Prescott and McCoy nodded their agreement. Both men knew, more often than not, no matter how dedicated the P.D., a defendant who could afford a private defense attorney of Danielle Melnick's caliber was far better off when dealing with the criminal justice system.

"We all know how fond Danielle is of Lindsay," Prescott interjected as he turned to McCoy. "As soon as I told Lindsay needed help, she threw on the first thing she could find and asked me to drive her down here, so she and Andy could talk on the way. When we got here, one of the court officers told us Lindsay'd ended up in Walter Bradley's courtroom, for some unknown reason. When we got down there, the P.D. who'd been assigned to Lindsay's case told us she was in a conference room with you."

When McCoy informed his companion that Lindsay had been initially charged as an adult when she deliberately mislead the police, the veins in Malinowski's neck began to dance.

"It looks like she didn't want to lose face with her peers by admitting she was under age. It was damage that was easy to repair. Walter Bradley had her case transferred to the juvenile division as soon as he learned she was underage. "

"But, she's still being charged in this girl's death," Malinowski pressed.

"And for possession of a controlled substance," McCoy dutifully replied. "But Andrew, when the 911 tape is pulled and it's verified that Lindsay called for help, that _will _help Danielle to get the charges, if not dropped, reduced."

"But she's still facing prison, isn't she? Jack, when you spoke to her did she say anything else? I don't even know who this girl is … I mean was… or what drugs the police are talking about," Malinowski asked as panic began to creep back into his voice. "Jack, I'm sure this puts you in an awkward position, but if there's any way you can find out how this happened…"

Awkward was putting it mildly. After a turbulent beginning as D.A., McCoy was just beginning to feel he had been making headway in proving himself worthy of the trust voters had so recently put in him, when Cutter's untimely admission to lying on his application to the D.A.'s office hit the fan. With Lindsay's arrest, McCoy now faced another scandal that literally hit home. Good sense dictated that he put as much distant between himself and niece-by-marriage. As he scanned the group of people who stood at the opposite end of the hall, it struck McCoy that common decency dictated that he take a contrary course.

After abruptly excusing himself, McCoy abandoned Malinowski and Prescott to stride swiftly to the opposite end of the hall, just in time to catch ADA Alex Cabot before she rounded the corner.


	9. Chapter 9

"Alex, last time I checked you weren't catching cases on the night shift."

"Last time I checked, Fox News was reporting that the DA's niece was sitting in Judge Bradley's courtroom awaiting arraignment on felony charges. But that was before you breezed in and got the case transferred down to kiddie court," Cabot bluntly countered. "When it came out that Lindsay Malinowski isn't just your niece, but your underage niece, Bensen figured this might be a bit much for our new ADA to handle her first week on the job. So she suggested that ADA Von give me a call."

"I was under the impression the victim died of a drug overdose. That makes this case a narcotics collar, how is special victims involved," McCoy gruffly shot back.

The cool looking blond wordlessly moved down the corridor with McCoy on her heels. Once she found an unoccupied conference room, she opened the door and waited for it to close behind her superior. Having worked under four D.A.'s with four very different temperaments, Alexandra Cabot knew one of the common threads among that elite group was that no authority figure appreciated having their authority questioned. With that knowledge in mind, Cabot turned to face her superior with the intent to choose her words carefully.

"Jack, as D.A. you obviously have the right to ask about any case that falls under your jurisdiction. But given the fact you have a personal relationship with this defendant, I'm hesitant-"

"Alex, just bring me up to speed and let me worry about whatever fallout I'm going to be dealing with later," McCoy cut in before stifling a yawn, as he began to feel the effects of the lateness of the hour.

"Alright. When the CSI team arrived they found the victim was missing her panties. There were also signs of vaginal trauma, hence the reason SVU was brought in. There were traces of cocaine on the body...around the nose and eyes…and on the floor near the body. The M.E. won't be able to confirm the cause of death tonight, but the evidence does seem to point to a drug overdose," Cabot admitted as she paused to remove a file from her briefcase. "Right now all I have are the preliminary reports from CSI and the investigating officers. Given that your niece's involvement is bound to make this case high profile overnight, Von asked me to assist her at arraignment."

McCoy absentmindedly acknowledged her comment with a nod as he thumbed through the file. Though he'd been impressed with the Brooklyn ADA when he'd interviewed her, he had to agree having someone who knew the workings of the SVU and well as the workings of the Manhattan D.A.'s office as well as Cabot did would help to make what promised to be a controversial case, a little more palatable.

"Tell me what you know about this 'party' and the other defendants," McCoy said without looking up from the file.

"The girl goes to school with your niece. Once you had Lindsay taken out of Judge Bradley's courtroom the other girl…Kendell McCleary…got scared enough to admit she'd lied about her age too," Cabot explained. "She asked the bailiff to call her parents and when they arrived they confirmed she's just barely seventeen."

"And the boys? Wes Mac Farland…Chad…Wentworth," McCoy inquired while he scanned the arresting officers narrative. "The boys that she came to the party with?"

"You're gonna love this. Their college kids. Wes is twenty-two. Chad is twenty-three. They both go to Brooklyn College. Apparently they supplement their tuition with the money they get selling coke between classes."

_Lindsay's going to be doing more than a few hail Mary's when her dad finds out she's running around with those two_, McCoy mused before turning the page and noting the information on the victim.

What he found raised more questions than it answered. But before he could inquire further, Sam Prescott opened the conference room door and announced that Danielle and Lindsay had been summoned upstairs for arraignment.

"Ah, Jack, I didn't want to make a bad situation worse for Andy by askin' about Brooke in front of him," Prescott murmured after Cabot had passed by him. "I know that blow out at the party was a big one, but she _is_ comin' down here isn't she? I mean, whether Andy is willin' to admit it, he's goin' need his sister's support."

While usually McCoy found it annoying to discuss anything involving his wife with Sam Prescott, this time he had to admit Prescott had a valid point. When he informed his wife of Lindsay latest emergency, McCoy had assumed Brooke would make a call to her brother and rush to meet himself and Lindsay at the courthouse.

Belatedly, he noted his wife's uncharacteristically vague response to his news.

"To be honest Sam, you're guess is as good as mine," McCoy frankly admitted as he pulled his phone from his pants pocket. After finding no new voice-mail waiting for him, he noticed the indicator for his phones rarely used text messaging function showed there was an unread text in his in-box.


	10. Chapter 10

Only a moment seemed to pass between the time McCoy's head hit the pillow and the alarm clock sounded on the opposite side of the bed. Though the insistent buzz sounded only a few seconds, McCoy found himself self wide awake when his wife left his side.

As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he could hear Brooke rouse their unexpected guest with all the finesse of a Marine drill sergeant.

"Aunt Brooke, I can't go to school. I just spent all night in court-"

"Being charged with a crime doesn't mean your life stops," he heard Brooke firmly interject to cut off Lindsay's groggy attempt to protest. "It just means your life gets a little harder. Now get off the couch and get into the shower while I start breakfast. I put some things out for you in the bathroom last night to tide you over until we run you by your dad's place to pick up some of your stuff."

"But someone died. It's going to be in the papers. The kids at school… my teachers…their going to know-"

"Maybe you should have thought a little bit about that before you snuck into Manhattan on a school night with two grown men," Brooke shot back in tone that almost convinced her husband that her words were sincere. "Now move and don't take too long in the shower. I need to get in their after you and we still have get to Union Station before seven."

Once he heard the sound of water running in the bathroom, McCoy reached for the flannel robe at the foot of the bed. When he entered the kitchen, McCoy found his wife gazing out the kitchen window, water overflowing from the glass coffee pot she held under the tap.

"How bad does Andy hate this," she asked when he slipped his arms around her waist.

"Your brother doesn't like not having a choice; especially when it comes to his child," McCoy wistfully remarked as he thought about the text messaged premonition his wife had sent him just hours earlier. "But I did what you asked and I did it because you were right. Brooke, it _was _the right thing to do, for everyone's sake."

He smiled to himself as he thought of the lengthy message. Neither he nor his wife had mastered the art of text speak. Most of the message had been typed out without the use of symbols or abbreviations.

_It must have taken her a half an hour to type the thing on those microscopic keys her phone has_, McCoy mused as he thought of the content of the message.

_After the shoplifting, no way does any judge let her go home with Andrew,_ the message began. _Jack lock up is too dangerous for the niece of an ADA, much less the niece of the DA himself. Know it's too much to ask, but when your ADA asks for remand, I'm begging you to have Danielle ask that Lindsay stay in the jurisdiction with us. Can't watch my brother lose her, so I'm staying here and trusting you to do this for me. _

The scene in the courtroom played out as predicted. Family ties to the district attorney or not, the arraignment judge was not impressed by the fact the defendant had defied a court ordered curfew just days after it was implemented. While the prosecution made no attempt to dispute Andrew Malinowski's commitment to his daughter, Alex Cabot was swift to point out the fireman's work hours made it impossible for him to supervise a rebellious minor.

The stunned look on Malinowski's ruddy face when Melnick countered with the suggestion that his daughter remain in Manhattan, made McCoy immediately question the wisdom of the plan. But, when confronted with the fact his child would either spend her time awaiting trial in the juvenile facility at Rikers or under the supervision of his sister and brother-in-law, Malinowski kept his objections to himself.

"Yeah, well I doubt that's how my brother sees things," Brooke replied before turning off the water and moving towards the coffee maker. "But you went above and beyond, Jack. I just hope to God this disaster doesn't cost you more than it already has."

"If you're worried about the press screaming conflict of interest, I addressed that with the arraignment judge last night," McCoy assured her as he watched while Brooke open the refrigerator. "If the judge doesn't for see a problem, neither should you. What are you making?"

"Scrambled eggs."

"Mind throwing in a few more for me?"

"You're not going back to bed," Brooke asked with obvious surprise. "It's only six. You have to be exhausted; don't you want to sleep a few more hours?"

McCoy gave her a roguish smile after pulling her into an embrace. McCoy knew she had to be as fatigued as he was, Brooke had been waiting when he and Lindsay arrived at the loft, a few minutes after three a .m. . But McCoy also knew he had the luxury being able to rearrange his late morning calendar and catching a cat nap if needed behind locked doors on the leather sofa in his office.

"I'm awake now. Besides, I wanted to ask you something before our visitor joins us," McCoy explained as he pulled out coffee mugs from the drain board. "Two or three?"

"Oh three please. All of us will _need _the caffeine to get through the morning. What is it, Jack?"

"Well, Lindsay was less than forthcoming when it came to talking about this party and these friends of hers."

"Are you serious? She's protecting these people when she could go to prison; not to mention the fact someone died? You're sure she didn't at least tell Danielle anything? Oh my God Jack," Brooke continued when McCoy solemnly shook his head. "Maybe a night in lock up _would_ have done that girl some good."

"You don't mean that," McCoy softly replied, as he turned his wife's exasperated words over in his mind.

Brooke sounded so much like his former wife, McCoy couldn't help but be reminded of the night he and Liz Donnelly were confronted with another rebellious teen who had found her way to a holding cell at the 1 6 under similar circumstances. While no one had been murdered, his own daughter had been arrested at a party in the company of a college boy who had acquired enough pot that the neighbors had called in a complaint about the smell, as well as the noise level.

The incident occurred when McCoy was still an EADA and his former wife was SVU bureau chef. His mentor Adam Schiff had recently retired and attorneys were under more pressure than usual to proof themselves to the D.A. while they both broke in new assistants. After a heated run in over a controversial plea bargain with DA Nora Lewin, Donnelly seemed more driven to prove herself than usual. Years later, McCoy silently maintained the conflict had colored Donnelly judgment when she received the call from their daughter, pleading with her to pull enough strings to keep her daughter from spending the night in jail.

McCoy had taken a late dinner break that night, so his daughter was forced to ask the switch board to connect her with her mother's office. While Donnelly later admitted how horrified she'd been to find her daughter was calling her in tears from the precinct Donnelly visited almost daily, her protective instincts were overshadowed by her desire to do everything in her power to be sure this would be the one and only time her daughter called any one from jail.

These were the days before voice mail and cell phones were just staying to catch on, so McCoy didn't learn of his daughter's situation until he returned to his apartment to find a well intentioned message from Don Cragen, who had just taken over command of the 1 6, assuring McCoy that, even though he was following Donnelly's directive to keep Rebecca's overnight, he had taken the liberty of segregating the prosecutor's daughter, in an effort to keep her out of harm's way.

"Right now, Lindsay where she needs to be," McCoy continued while he recalled the heated round of finger pointing that transpired between Donnelly and himself as they debated the wisdom of leaving their own child in a jail cell. "No matter what precautions could have been taken, you know there's no way to guarantee anyone's safety in lock up. The best thing you can to do help her is to get her to tell everything she knows about that party and those kids she was with."

Though he knew his wife would do her best to get their niece to cooperate, when Lindsay rejoined them, McCoy knew Brooke was facing an uphill battle. Every trace of fear and remorse was firmly concealed behind a heavy layer of Brooke's make-up. As Lindsay swaggered back towards the kitchen, McCoy exchanged troubled glances with his wife, before retrieving both his coffee cup and cell phone from the kitchen and retreating to the bathroom.


	11. Chapter 11

*_To anyone within the realm of teenager, I apologize for the remarks in the first paragraph. A combination of a bbbbaaaddd day at work and the fact that Lindsay is the kind of teenager these observations really play true too, motivated these words. Just so you know: I know most teenagers are not Lindsay._

By the time the train reached Long Island's Islip station, Brooke McCoy felt as if she'd already put in a full day's work. During the hour long journey, Brooke had failed to get Lindsay to break her silence regarding anything connected to her companions at the party. No matter what tactic she took; whether she played the caring aunt or the hard-nosed assistant DA or any combination of the two, Brooke found her inquires met with the kind of annoyingly simplistic logic that only the teenage mind is equipped to formulate.

"I can't believe you get away with pulling this kind of crap with you dad. It's a miracle _he's_ not the one charged in a homicide; justified though it might me," Brooke remarked with utter sarcasm, that Lindsay promptly returned in kind.

"When I turn eighteen I'm moving in with Derrick, that way both you and Dad will be spared anymore misery," Lindsay shot back while moving towards the pair of escalators across the platform, before an attractive woman wearing a leather jacket moved to block her path.

"Sweetheart, you're charged with two felonies. Where you're going to be living, the only person who might be named Derrick is the one of the guards," Olivia Bensen bluntly remarked. "Besides I thought your boyfriend was Wes or was it Chad, you know, the guys you think are worth doing a twenty-five to life sentence for."

"Detective Bensen? Danielle said not to talk to you without her," Lindsay shot back with considerably less bravado while her hand reached out towards Brooke's.

"We both know she's right, detective. Once a suspects been charged, her due process rights kick in," Brooke apologetically interjected. "I know you know that, as well as I do. So I have to wonder why you're here, obviously waiting for my niece?"

"Actually, I was waiting for you," Bensen explained as they reached the escalators. "Mrs. McCoy, Alex Cabot asked me to contact you. It seems your husband called her this morning to ask Alex what we'd found out about your niece's playmates. Once Alex filled him in, Mr. McCoy thought your niece should be made aware of what kind of people she's protecting."

Brooke nodded as the group reached the bottom of the escalator. After scanning the commuter filled station, Brooke strode swiftly toward the single unoccupied bench, with Bensen and Lindsay behind her.

"I don't have time for this. You're going to make me late for school," Lindsay sullenly remarked as she joined Brooke on the cold concrete stab and wrapped her arms together. "Besides, you're just trying to scare me just like last night with Detective Stabler and Ms. Cabot. "

"Damn it Lindsay, when are you going to wise up? Didn't you learn enough sitting in arraignment court last night to know that you_ should_ be scared," Brooke sharply demanded and her worry and fatigue collided. "Besides, Jack's already gone above and beyond for you. So be quiet and listen to whatever it is he went out of his way to have the detective tell you."

"First Lindsay, I'd like to know how you and your friend met these older boys."

Lindsay stubbornly stared at the dull institutional linoleum until an elbow jabbed her sharply in the ribs.

"One call from either Jack or myself and you'll find yourself off our sofa and on the first bus to the juvie facility at Rikers."

"You don't mean that. Uncle Jack told the judge I wouldn't be safe there because of all people you and Uncle Jack have sent to prison," Lindsay uncertainly declared as her gaze shifted from the floor to search Brooke's deliberately impassive face.

"Uncle Jack isn't here and I am. Someone is dead and as much as I love you, I see every day what happens to people that think they're above the law. You're not above the law Lindsay; neither are your friends. Now, I'm losing patience. Answer Detective Bensen now unless you want to get back on the next train bound for Manhattan."

The teenager opened her mouth to reply only to hesitate as an announcement that an express train bound for Manhattan was approaching the station. When Brooke reached for her briefcase as she started to stand, Lindsay's eyes widened.

"Alright. Wes and Chad are friends of Derrick's."

"Friends of your boyfriend," Bensen curiously remarked as she shot Brooke a troubled glance. "How did Derrick know them?"

"Chad is Derrick's cousin. Why?"

"Well Lindsay, would it surprise you to hear that Chad Wentworth was arrested twice for drug possession and his buddy Wes? He's been questioned in connection with the assault of another girl; another girl who was an underage prostitute."


	12. Chapter 12

_For Lynn...sorry it's taken so long to post. Thanks for the wake up message!_

"Listen Jack relatives or not, I can't have my client talking to prosecutors when I'm not present; much less police detectives," Danielle Melnick announced as she smoothed the back of her skirt down before sitting on one of the two wing chairs in front of the district attorney's desk. "I just got a call from Lindsay and she tells me Brooke let Olivia Bensen corner her when she got off the train this morning."

"There's nothing illegal about law enforcement talking to a defendant about co-conspirators; especially with one of the defendants guardians present. Coffee," McCoy smoothly asked as he reached for the Bears mug in front of him before promptly turning towards the half empty carafe sitting on the coffee table a few paces away.

"I don't need caffeine to get my pulse racing. You knew about this?"

"I set it up," McCoy replied before returning to the desk and handing Melnick the copies he'd had made in anticipation of her visit.

McCoy had no doubt Melnick would make it her business to personally confront him when she learned about his niece's meeting with Olivia Bensen. But after his conversation with Alex Cabot, McCoy was anxious to have Lindsay's resistance broken, with the goal of gaining whatever information she'd been holding back as soon as possible. Even if it might mean circumventing conventional practices.

"Just like when you were a prosecutor," Melnick sneered. "Still wrestling with that compulsive need to win, aren't you Jack? No matter what the cost; to yourself, to the office, or in this case, to a young girl that we both know had nothing to do with the death of that-"

"And you still have the compulsive need to jump to conclusions before you've looked at all of the facts," McCoy shot back as he tapped the top of the manila folder that remained unopened in her hand. "With the that media circus going on last night, Cabot wasn't able to get you copies of the rap sheets on Lindsay's companions. Read this and if you still want to chew me out, I'm all yours."

"Lindsay said Bensen told her the Wentworth boy has prior drug charges, which makes it more likely that he was the one who brought the drugs, not my client," Melnick began as she scanned the contents of the file, more so for McCoy's benefit than her own. The annoyance in her expression was replaced by concern a few seconds after she scanned the next page and looked to McCoy for confirmation of the accuracy of what she'd just read.

"It's true. I had Connie double check when she came in," McCoy said with a sigh. "Lindsay's boyfriend sent her to that party with his cousin; his older cousin who likes to beat up young women. "

"Jack, the file says he was charged, not that he was convicted."

McCoy gave her a short snicker before reaching for his coffee.

"The victim was bought off right before the trial. Apparently Derrick and Wes belong to the Long Island MacFarland's. The MacFarland name is to shortbread what Manischewitz is to kosher food."

"Wow. How does the daughter of a fireman end up running with kids like the MacFarland boys?"

It was a good question. One McCoy had not only asked himself, but had posed to his brother-in-law, once Cabot had filled him in on Wesley MacFarland's background.

"Lindsay spent some time working in the Hampton's last summer. She met Derrick… the boyfriend…while she was waitressing out at Hampton Hills. He took a liking to her. They started going out. By the time Andrew met him, the stars in Lindsay's eyes already blinded her to any flaws her boyfriend might have."

"Lindsay'd be an easy mark for a kid like that. She showed me a picture of him at your anniversary party," Melnick admitted as she took her seat. "Handsome kid. With money and all the charm it can buy."

McCoy grimaced as he nodded in agreement. During his time in the DA's office he'd witnessed the privileged class of Manhattan …as well as their offspring…avoid taking responsibility for their crimes, much the way regular people avoided a puddle on a rainy day. It was second nature to people like that. They either spent their way out of the charges with a skillful defense team or swiftly found a scapegoat to take the fall for their actions.

A person in such desperate need of money that they'd sell their soul to get their hands on it or someone so enamored of the accused that they willingly scarified themselves for what they perceived to be as the greater good. McCoy involuntarily shuddered when he realized how easily his niece might be manipulated into the former category.

"Lindsay is way out of her league. We both know it," he bluntly stated as he leaned across his desk. "You're her attorney. You need to get her to save herself now, before she gets in so deep no one can get her out."

"Come on Jack, you know my job is to defend my client a zealously as I can, not to help your office to build its case against her co-defendants," Melnick knowingly objected before McCoy's penetrating gaze caused her to pause.

"This isn't about either one of us doing our jobs, "McCoy halting retorted. "This is about us keeping Lindsay out of jail."

"That's easily done, at least for the DA. Just have the charges against Lindsay dropped and-"

"And without her cooperation, no one takes responsibility for the death of Kendall McCleary," McCoy angrily replied. "Lindsay was willing to be arraigned in adult court to prove her loyality to those punks. Danielle, do you really want to see how far she's willing to go for them? Do you really want to help her keep her mouth shut and end up doing prison time for her trouble?"


End file.
